


An Evening Brimming With Revolution

by Hokkaido_Pumpkin



Series: The Journals of Party Member O'Brien [2]
Category: 1984 - George Orwell
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-16
Updated: 2020-03-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:01:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22280737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hokkaido_Pumpkin/pseuds/Hokkaido_Pumpkin
Summary: Hello! This is a rewrite of a part of a chapter from George Orwell's 1984. Hope you like it! :D----O'Brien was waiting. He was waiting for the man to show up on his door. One day he came, and with a woman by his side.Two birds with one stone.----To my 'Co-Creator': Thank you so much for helping me with editing this work. Sorry you had to witness my absolute mess called spelling.
Series: The Journals of Party Member O'Brien [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1603714
Comments: 3
Kudos: 11





	1. Thoughts, Secrets, And Heretics

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Just_Rocket_Science](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Just_Rocket_Science/gifts).



O’Brien was absorbed in the masses of paper he was working through, the green lamp illuminating the ocean of words before him. A slight creak came from the other end of the room, and O’Brien instinctively looked up. A flash of surprise passed through him at the sight of the woman, but didn’t let it show. Julia stood close to Winston. The familiar feeling of intrigue materialised inside O’Brien. Winston’s trust in him was making things more interesting, but also easier for him. Two birds with one stone. 

O’Brien kept studying the paper in his hands for a few seconds, trying to get ahold of himself. He had to make sure this ploy was infallible. He had to make sure Winston and Julia trusted him. He looked down at the papers in front of him and put them aside. There were things of more importance right now. He pulled the speakwrite closer to him and sent his message. 

Afterwards, O’Brien somehow found it difficult to get up. He had to compose himself once again, trying to prepare himself for the task which was before him. He had to think like a criminal to lure them in. For a moment, he also wondered whether a real rebellion did exist, and wasn't just a ploy that the Party had put in place. His current train of thought was stopped when he was in front of the telescreen. O’Brien stopped, turned to the side and pressed a button, closing off the eyes watching their every move. Now, it was just them. 

Julia let out a small squeak of surprise. Winston was taken aback, an expression of disbelief on his face. “You can turn it off?” he asked.  
“Yes, we can turn it off. We have that privilege”. 

O’Brien now stood opposite them, waiting for one of them to start the conversation. Heavy silence had engulfed the room. Winston’s eyes were fixed on O’Brien. Winston has some courage, staring me down like that, thought O’Brien. Maybe Winston’s skin was tougher he let on. These thoughts produced a slight smile on O’Brien’s face. Resettling his spectacles on his nose, O’Brien felt intrigued by this man once again. This criminal, a part of his mind reminds O’Brien. 

“Shall I say it or will you?” O’Brien broke the silence.  
“I will say it,'' Winston almost immediately replied.  
“That thing is really turned off?”  
“Yes, everything is turned off. We are alone.”  
“We have come here because--” 

Winston paused mid sentence, a sort of uncertainty seeming to wash up on him for a moment. This pause was a clue. Even though he had come here, Winston was still not fully sure of why he was against the Party. Was he blindly following someone else? Someone from an actual rebellion? At that moment Winston continued, and cut O’Brien’s thoughts shwort. 

“We believe that there is some kind of conspiracy, some kind of secret organization working against the Party, and that you are involved in it. We want to join it and work for it. We are enemies of the Party. We disbelieve in the principles of Ingsoc. We are thought-criminals. We are also adulterers. I tell you this because we want to put ourselves at your mercy. If you want us to incriminate ourselves in any other way, we are ready.” 

This confession of sorts gave O’Brien much more to work with. For one, they weren’t in touch with anyone else regarding this business, which put O’Brien at ease. Two, they were willing to go against the party in earnest. O’Brien was also impressed how much Winston trusted him, as Winston had just revealed all of his thoughts to a member of the Inner Party. If O’Brien wanted, he could have turned them in right that second, but he wouldn’t yet. There was still more to the plan.With very convenient timing, O’Brien stopped and glanced over his shoulder to see that Martin had just come in, carrying a tray with a decanter and glasses. 

“Martin is one of us,” O’Brien said, without giving either of them a chance to bring it up. ’Best not to give them any chance to question anything, just to be on the safe side’, thought O’Brien. 

“Bring the drinks over here, Martin. Put them on the round table. Have we enough chairs? Then we may as well sit down and talk in comfort. Bring a chair for yourself, Martin. This is business. You can stop being a servant for the next ten minutes.”(3)

O’Brien took the decanter and filled up the glasses with wine, the movement serving as a momentary distraction, helping O'Brien ground himself again. Julia picked up her glass and sniffed at the wine with curiosity. O'Brien realised that they didn’t know what was in the glasses. For all they knew, it could have been poison. “It’s called wine. You will have read about it in books, no doubt. Not much of it gets to the Outer Party, I’m afraid.” Explained O’Brien He raised his glass, and took a moment to think through what he was about to say.

“I think it is fitting that we should begin by drinking a health. To our Leader. To Emmanuel Goldstein.” 

What he was doing was doublethink at its finest, O’Brien thought. On one hand raising his glass to the leader, Big Brother, and also to Emmanual Goldstein, the saint of the heretics. 

And so, a night filled with lies had begun.


	2. The Night Goes On As The Grave Beckons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As they drunk, they talked, and ideals had risen to the surface. 
> 
> A feeling of familiarity frightens O'Brien. 
> 
> How far are you willing to venture in blind devotion? A long way, it seems

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here (finally) is the rest of the scene I rewrote, revised and edited to add some more of my own thoughts and extra opinions, focusing on the duality in the blind devotion of both Party Members and Revolutionists 
> 
> (small changes though, so this still won't bee that thematically obvious unless you probably had seen the original rewrite)
> 
> Anyways, have a good time dear travelers! :D

Winston finished his glass of wine quite quickly, and started speaking after he set it down.

“Is there such a person as Goldstein?” he asked. 

“Yes there is such a person, and he is alive. Where, I do not know.

“And the conspiracy-the organization? Is it real? Is it not simply an invention of the Thought Police?

Winston’s response had stirred something in O’Brien again that beckoned him to think further. This man knows that this might all just be a fabrication from the Thought police, yet still believes otherwise. Although perceptive, it seems this belief and trust in O’Brien will cause his eventual downfall. This blind trust felt familiar to O’Brien, and somehow he felt more in place than he had before. He went on, fabricating details about this so-called ‘organization’,

“No, it is real. The Brotherhood, we call it. You will never learn much more about the Brotherhood than that it exists and that you belong to it. I will come back to that presently.”  


O’Brien made sure to check his wristwatch to see how much time they had left. Their time was limited, but he was used to working around such limits.

“It is unwise even for members of the Inner Party to turn off their telescreens for less than half an hour. You ought not to have come here together, and you will leave here separately.”  


Although Julia coming was beneficial to O’Brien, it was a slight problem right now that he had to manage. He bows slightly to Julia, thinking that his respectfulness may help to build himself an alibi that she can trust as well. 

“You, Comrade will leave first. We have about twenty minutes at our disposal. You will understand that I must start by asking you certain questions. In general terms, what are you prepared to do?”  


This was the moment O’Brien was waiting for. To take the words he will say now and etch them into his memory, to eventually use them against him when he would be brought to the Ministry of Love. He wouldn’t focus on Julia now, because it seemed to him like she would follow whatever Winston, her lover, said. O’Brien slips into a monotonous voice, and asks the questions he had prepared. 

“You are prepared to give your lives?”

“Yes” 

“You are prepared to commit murder?”

“Yes”

“To commit acts of sabotage which may cause the death of hundreds of innocent people?”

“Yes”

“To betray your country to foreign powers?”

  
“Yes”

Winston had answered many things with the same, expressionless answer,which came across as curious to O’Brien for a moment. Was he blindly following the one before him, or was he truly willing? It didn’t matter in the end because he had agreed to everything. O’Brien decided to slip in some tougher questions to try to see if one of them would crack. 

This was starting to remind him of something he’d seen before, in his allies. The familiarity of this situation, this blind devotion, was starting to get to him. 

“You are prepared to cheat, to forge , to blackmail, to corrupt the minds of children, to distribute habit-forming drugs, to encourage prostutution, to disseminate venereal diseases- to do anything which is likely to cause demoralization and weaken the power of the party?”

“Yes.”

“If, for example, it would somehow serve our interests to throw sulfuric acid in a child’s face- are you prepared to do that?”

“Yes.”

“You are prepared to lose your identity and live out the rest of your life as a waiter or dock-worker?”

“Yes.”

“You are prepared to commit suicide, if and when we give the give you the order to do so?”

“Yes.”

“You are prepared, the two of you, to separate and never see one another again?”

“No!”,Julia broke in  


O’Brien had found what Julia truly cared about. It was not her life, but rather what she had with Winston. O’Brien logged this somewhere in his mind, as this was information that may become useful. A few moments pass in silence, and Winston speaks again. “No.”  


Even though the man had blindly followed many things in the name of this ‘revolution’, it had brung some sense of calm to O’Brien, seeing that the man still cared about love rather than an impossible dream that could only result in his death. There was no other outcome for anyone who disagreed with the Party. 

“You did well to tell me, it is necessary for us to know everything”  


He decided to test Julia now, see how far  _ her _ devotion may go. Adding some expression to his voice, he goes on;

“Do you understand that even if he survives, it may be as a different person? We may be obliged to give him a new identity. His face, his movements, the shape of his hands, the colour of his hair-even his voice would be different. And you yourself might have to become a different person. Our surgeons can alter people beyond recognition. Sometimes it is necessary. Sometimes we even amputate a limb”  


O’Brien did feel like he might have gone too far, but the reaction he was waiting for was an interesting one, indeed. Julia had gone pale, but she kept looking at him, albeit in a bold way. She also was brave, O’Brien kept as a note to himself. _ This is truly turning out to be interesting.  _ “Good. Then that is settled.”(e) he says out loud, ending another chapter in this conversation. 

Absentmindedly, O’Brien takes a cigarette and stood up, pacing to and fro, the thoughts flowing within his head. This devotion, although mad, although to all the wrong places, was still intriguing. What caused such repulsion from the Party that causes people to accept the opportunity to do such horrible things? Something about those questions that he had come up with was still resonating within him, but why he did not know. He looked at his wristwatch, and saw how quickly their time had passed. 

“You had better get back to your pantry, Martin. I shall switch on in a quarter of an hour. Take a good look at these comrades’ faces before you go. You will be seeing them again. I may not” 

The last sentence was a lie, and O’Brien knew it. He would be seeing them both at the Ministry of Love. It was only a matter of time. 

Martin appeared to be studying the two’s faces, without a trace of interest in his face. O’Brien reminded himself that he’d have to thank Martin for agreeing to help him, alongside for his acting skills. Even O’Brien himself couldn’t be sure at moments like this whether Martin’s facade was real or not, but whatever instinct was left in the former made him trust that Martin would stay loyal to the Party, or at least him. Martin left, closing the door softly. O’Brien starts strolling around the room again, going on with his fabricated brotherhood. 

“You understand, that you will be fighting in the dark. You will always be in the dark. You will receive orders and you will obey them, without knowing why. Later I shall send you a book from which you will learn the true nature of the society that we live in, and the strategy by which we shall destroy it.” (e-f) O’Brien keeps going on, talking about how they will be contacted, and how, in the end, they will be caught and interrogated like every other heretic. He kept on moving to and fro over the carpet in the room.

Somehow, even though Winston didn't say anything, O’Brien seemed to feel the admiration seeping out of him. The man seemed to idolise O’Brien, as if he was Winston’s Goldstein, his Big Brother. These thoughts further shook something in O’Brien so he kept going on. This feeling made him understand Winston ever so slightly. He was looking for someone to trust, and that someone he stumbled upon happened to be O’Brien. This trust and devotion was something on another level, thought O’Brien, but nevertheless he went on. He went on about things regarding the Brotherhood, its secrecy, and how ‘nothing holds it together except an idea which is indestructible’ . He also went into how they will never see the results of their work, as if he was easing them into their fated end. Their graves. 

He stopped one more time and looked at his watch. It seemed like their time was coming to an end. Before Julia was to leave, O’Brien decided to toast once more. “What shall it be this time?” he said , giving a few guesses. “The confusion of the Thought Police? To the death of Big Brother? To humanity? To the future?” 

“ To the past,'' said Winston.   


This choice struck O’Brien unexpectedly. It was truly an interesting choice. Was it because they were already the past, waiting to enter their graves and be swept away by what comes from the future? Or was it because those who control the past control the future, and who control the present controls the past? Or could it be that Winston merely desired to be in the world that was the past, a wretched time where the few had absolute dominion over the rest? O’Brien couldn’t answer for sure, but was once again swept by a wave of curiosity that Winston gave him. 

They drank their wine, he gave Julia a tablet,and she left. Now, it was just the two of them.

He went on to ask Winston if they had a hiding place, and he explained where he was having meetings with Julia. That would be information that he’d probably have to hand over to the Thought Police soon enough. 

O’Brien talked some more with Winston, and arranged a method for him to get Goldstein’s book. At the end of that conversation, the room grew silent. He said to Winston, “We shall meet again- if we do meet again-”(h). At that moment, Winston looked up straight at O’Brien. “In the place where there is no darkness?” (h) he said with some hesitancy. O’Brien did hope that he’d meet this man soon enough, and he knew that he would. He nodded. “In the place where there is no darkness” (h). O’Brien wanted to know more about this man. So he let him say any message or ask any questions before he left. He expected for something about the Party or the Brotherhood to come out of Winston’s mouth, but something completely different came out. Instead, he had asked about an old rhyme. O’Brien knew that rhyme, from where he was not too sure. He complies with Winston’s request, and recited the rhyme;

“‘Oranges and lemons’ say the bells of St. Clements, 

‘You owe me three farthings’ say the bells of St. Martin’s,

‘When will you pay me?’ say the bells of Old Bailey, 

‘When I grow rich,’ say the bells of Shoreditch”  


Winston seemed quite marveled at this rhyme. “You knew the last line!”(i) he said,”Yes, I knew the last line. And now, I’m afraid, it is time for you to go. But wait. You had better let me give you one of these tablets” .

He gave Winston a tablet, and went back to his desk, ready to go back to his work for the Party. 

When Winston left, a chill had risen up him. It had finally clicked in his mind what had truly unsettled him this very night. What he had said about the brotherhood, the ploy, was eerily similar to some of the things the Party did. Were those two more similar than he thought? O’Brien immediately silenced those thoughts as the telescreen came on. It was not his part to think about this nor was he allowed to do so anyway. The rhyme he had told Winston was in his mind for the rest of the evening as he worked his way through the piles of paper stacked up in his desk. 

A memory from the past had appeared in his mind as he went back to work, like a light bulb suddenly popping into life.    
  
“Oh my dear son, this curiosity of yours will get you in trouble some day.”

O’Brien mutters to himself in the quietest voice he could possibly muster. 

  
“How you were right mother. The Reaper had beckoned me with answers, so I went with him”

It had been a long time since he had put his foot in the grave. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reaidng my work! I hope you enjoyed it, and please leave any feedback on how I can improve my writing below. 
> 
> I had originally rewrote the next 9 pages from the book for this scene, but I couldn't submit it for my lit project so I only had this well finished cut short scene. 
> 
> The rest pf the scene has been reworked and added as the second chapter! Since this part was originally submitted as Thoughts Secrets and Heretics, I've changed the series name. 
> 
> Have a great day/evening! :D
> 
> Oh, and let me do a small shout out to my 'Co Creator' Just_Rocket_Science . Pls check her out if you like Tolkein's works! Thank you so much again.


End file.
